The Fire Huntress

By Jeff R. Spalsbury

The Ancient One warned the tribe that the Fire Huntress was coming and would burn the prairie. "I smell her in the air. She will devour all who stand before her. Nothing can stop her. She will eat the land, destroy what few buffalo and animals are left. She will consume the very soul of the earth."
In Chesterville, Wyoming, others were also worried about the prolonged drought. What would they do if the prairie caught on fire? Could they save the city? Jamie Larson decided to buy a hand fire pumper, but that would protect his Lead Sky Livery and Dray and Sherman's Hotel and Bar. What about the town?
Asher Grubel wanted the Fire Huntress to come. He had a great plan. While the people fought the fire, his gang would rob the bank, the train, the livery, the stagecoach, and the hardware store all at the same time. Then they'd hide away in his house until it was safe to leave.
But it was not wise to challenge the Fire Huntress, for she went by her own rules. Everyone would find that out soon enough.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667819761

Book preview

cover.jpg

Copyright © 2021 Jeff R. Spalsbury

All rights reserved.

Website: www.JeffRSpalsbury.com

Cover design by Lorena Shindledecker

http://shindledeckerdesigns.com

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photo-copying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the author.

ISBN 978-1-66781-975-4 (Print)

ISBN 978-1-66781-976-1 (eBook)

DEDICATED TO:

Stacy and Jaime Larson,

Kathy and Greg (Dutch) Steckman,

Barry and Barbara Charelle,

Ted and Lynn Wise.

All dear and special friends.

And one last salute to a close buddy

Robert Mock (1935-2021)

Contents

CHAPTER ONE The Ancient One

CHAPTER TWO The Marshal

CHAPTER THREE Dutch And The Schoolteacher

CHAPTER FOUR Stacy Roberts

CHAPTER FIVE Stacy Meets Jaime

CHAPTER SIX Ira

CHAPTER SEVEN Victor And Jack

CHAPTER EIGHT Bugger Grubel

CHAPTER NINE The Farm Boys

CHAPTER TEN Doc Operates On Barry

CHAPTER ELEVEN Ira Goes For The Kill

CHAPTER TWELVE Asher Is Not Pleased

CHAPTER THIRTEEN The Roundhouse

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Crow Eye’s Glasses

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Bad Hangover

CHAPTER SIXTEEN Tim The Cheese Man

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Telegram From Nils

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Stacy’s Unwelcome Visitors

CHAPTER NINETEEN Ted Wise

CHAPTER TWENTY The First Fire Pump

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Asher’s Plan

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Tim And Marjorie

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE The Financial Panic of 1873

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR The Fire Huntress

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Pratt Larson

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Asher Decides It’s Time

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Dig The Trench

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT Loco To Cheyenne

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE The Indians

CHAPTER THIRTY McVey’s Farm

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE Over The Trestle

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO China Town And The Bank

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE The Pumps Arrive

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR Pumps at China Town

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE Pratt Directs the Fire Line

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX The Train Robbery

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN Best Laid Plans

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT Jaime, Stacy, And Doc Go Home

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE The Doctor Bag

CHAPTER FORTY The Late-night Dinner

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE The Jailbreak

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO The Next Day

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE Horse & Buggy, Money & Bandits

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR A Shady Stagecoach Driver

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE LeRoy Davis

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX Find The Mother

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN Kitchi

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT Gunfight At Larson’s

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE Dinner At Lottie’s

CHAPTER FIFTY Two Weddings

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

THE HUNT SERIES

CHAPTER ONE

The Ancient One

The ancient woman hobbled out of the tepee. Dressed in a dirty buffalo cloak from her late husband, she stood up before them using a polished stick as a crutch to help her walk. These five families had broken away from their principal tribe and now camped in southeastern Wyoming’s prairie. Lightning and thunder rumbled far north of them.

Once outside, she stopped and whiffed the air. She frowned, turned slightly into the face of the wind, and took a deep smell. She shook her head with a toothless snarl.

The camp became instantly quiet at her appearance. Bear Claw stood near the fire pit, crossed his arms, and waited. Black undulating storm clouds in the distance rumbled, threatening evil.

The ancient one, with difficulty, bent and scooped up a handful of the parched earth and let it run through her hand. The Fire Huntress is coming. I smell her in the air. She will devour all who stand before her. Nothing can stop her. She will eat the land, destroy what few buffalo and animals are left. She will consume the very soul of the earth. You cannot outrun her.

The Indians mumbled.

Quiet, Bear Claw snapped. He nodded to the ancient one.

She held her pole with both hands. She will move faster than the fastest animal. She will stretch higher than the tallest tree. All in her path will die. I’ve seen her twice. Once, it killed many of this tribe. The second time the tribe listened to me, and we all escaped. This time it will not be so easy.

She paused and lowered her head. Yet, she is strangely beautiful. She will perform a dance high in the sky, twisting and turning while speaking in a frightening voice. Fire Huntress will jump from tree to tree, consuming all that she touches. The ancient one took a deep breath. The animals know she is coming. Even our dogs are nervous, unable to settle down.

The people nod in agreement and fear.

Bear Claw asked in a soft voice, But where can we go to be safe?

CHAPTER TWO

The Marshal

Marshal Barry Charelle watched the blood slowly ooze down his arm and drip onto his saddle. He tried to decide what to do. He figured his life was over, but he didn’t want his horse to die. The marshal realized he didn’t even have the strength to fall off and let it go free. And the back shooter would get away. That disappointed him. To die and leave a job undone. He took a deep breath as his head fell forward, and he felt his horse, Champ, come to a stop. At least the pain left with the darkness that closed over him.

The ambulance wagon’s two mules moved briskly down the road. Deacon Larson stood and stretched up. I see him. He’s still on his horse. The horse stopped at the side of the road.

Is he alive? Doc Whitfield asked.

Can’t tell.

Bad box. He passed the reins to Deacon after he sat. You bring the mules up slow and gently. I don’t want to spook the horse. I’ll jump off and check out the marshal.

Sir, it might be better if you took the wagon in, and I jumped off. The marshal’s horse knows who I am and isn’t likely to be wary of me.

Doc grinned at Deacon. You remember back down the road when you asked me if you’d ever be as good a doctor as I am?

"Yes, Sir.

What you just suggested tells me you already are. He took the reins back.

Thanks, Doc. You sure know how to make a person feel good about himself.

Doc slowed the wagon and said to Crow Eye, When I stop, please jump out and hold Hemlock and Hubris.

Crow Eye frowned.

Yes, you can remove the eyepatch.

Crow Eye cautiously lifted the eyepatch from around his head. Everything is still blurry.

Don’t worry, Doc said. When we reach home, we’ll find a glasses drummer to fit you for glasses. You must be patient. This is all new to me as well.

I never needed to be patient before, Crow Eye said as he jumped off the wagon and hurried to the mules. Not like being patient.

Doc went to the marshal, slumped in his saddle, while Deacon held Champ. Doc laid his hand softly on the marshal’s leg.

Marshal Charelle stirred slightly, and his eyes blinked open. He opened his mouth, but no sounds came out.

You’re alive. Wonderful. Don’t try to speak. I’m Doc Whitfield. We’ve met a few times. We’re going to move you into my ambulance and patch you up.

Marshal Charelle’s head barely nodded, but Doc sensed he understood.

The marshal’s eyes closed.

Crow Eye, Doc called out. Tie down the mules and bring the stretcher here. Deacon, tie the horse. We’ll slide the marshal off his horse onto the stretcher and carry him into the ambulance.

Should I lower Pratt’s ramp? Crow Eye asked.

Yes. This will be its first test.

If it works as Pratt told us it would, Deacon said, he’s never going to let us forget it.

Crow Eye pulled the two bolts holding the metal ramp on the back of the wagon and slid it in the rod to the rear entrance of the wagon. Then he lowered the ramp over the steps. Now there was a slanted ramp from the ground into the back of the wagon’s operating table.

Doc pulled the marshal’s gun belt off and handed it to Crow Eye. Please store it under the seat up front.

Deacon and Crow Eye pulled the marshal from his horse and stretched him out on the stretcher, and carried him into the ambulance bed inside the wagon. Doc didn’t help as his right shoulder was still healing from the attack some months before in Chesterville.

Once they had the marshal inside the wagon, Doc told them to turn the marshal on his side. Deacon shook his head. Someone shot him in the back three times.

That’s not unusual out here. Deacon, you take the wound in his leg, and I’ll work on the side and shoulder wounds.

Doc quickly cut away the marshal’s shirt and vest. He shook his head as he placed bandages on the shoulder wound. Still bleeding. Not good. How far are we from town?

Thirty minutes, going slow.

Crow Eye, take your horse and the marshal’s, and ride to your dad’s and tell him to open the big doors. Then go find Sam and tell him to change into his Doc Hadley clothes.

Crow Eye made a wide smile. I ride my new horse, Kisepuyew?

Yes, now we’ll find out if you named him well.

Kisepuyew and Crow Eye will ride holes in the sky. Kisepuyew fast.

Doc yelled at him, And place the eyepatch back on when you arrive at your dad’s.

Deacon grinned as Crow Eye raced down the trail. I have to hand it to you, Doc. Offering Crow Eye a horse in exchange for getting his eye operated on was a smart move.

Crow Eye is fearless, but even after I explained what we were going to do, it deeply frightened him.

No kidding. What you did to him frightened me, and I only had to watch you and the eye doctor operate. That was the most delicate operation I’d ever seen.

That’s why we went to Dr. Yates. He’s the expert in the field. Doc took a pad and held it against the marshal’s shoulder. Well, that may be nothing compared to these two back wounds.

They’re both bad, huh?

I’m afraid so. Take us to your dad’s, but miss the bumps. I’ll stay with our patient and try to control the bleeding.

Which means not fast, but don’t waste time. I’ll do my best.

CHAPTER THREE

Dutch And The Schoolteacher

Two people waited in line when Dutch Steckman entered the railroad office.

The man by the counter was waving his arms while berating the attendant, Listen here, boy, I paid for first-class, and I expect to get first-class treatment. Being stuck in this stupid stop for who knows how long is not first-class. Two younger men stood beside him. Both looked embarrassed.

I’m sorry, Sir, but there is a problem up the line that needs repair before we can proceed.

So, when? the man yelled. Next week, next month? I have a business deal in Denver in three days, and I can’t be late. Do you understand?

Dutch Steckman waited patiently. The woman in front of him turned and said, I’m afraid I have a problem, so if you want to go ahead of me, that will be fine.

The woman was slim and very pretty. Dutch removed his hat and said, I work for the railroad. Perhaps I can help.

She hesitated. I’m embarrassed to tell you. I’m a schoolteacher. I was on the emigrant train, and I’d bought a ticket for Chesterville, Wyoming. Silly of me I know, but I didn’t check the ticket. It turns out it was for the wrong stop. The conductor couldn’t help me, so they had to put me off here. I don’t have enough money to buy the additional ticket to Chesterville. I don’t know what to do.

Hmm. Well, that’ll learn ya, said Dutch.

No, that’s ‘teach you,’ she corrected.

Of course, he grinned. I’m Greg Alan Steckman, but all my friends call me Dutch because I’m from Pennsylvania Dutch country. I might have your solution.

Sir?

I’m also on my way to Chesterville, and one of my employees has taken ill. I have his ticket, so I’ll just have the agent change it to your name. I believe you will enjoy the rest of the trip since it’s on First Class.

You’ve got to be kidding! Is that legal?

Yes, Ma’am, it is since the railroad messed up your ticket, so it’s up to the railroad to make it right.

She grinned sheepishly at him. Well, Mr. Steckman, that’s very generous of you.

Please, just call me Dutch. He glanced around and waved at a porter. Hey, Jefferson, can you give me a hand here?

Jefferson hurried over to him with four other porters. Hi, Mr. Steckman. I see you are stranded with the rest of us.

I’m afraid so. This is— he frowned when he realized he didn’t know her name.

Kathy Schoen, she said.

Oh, pretty name, Dutch said. Miss Schoen is going to be traveling to Chesterville, and she’ll be taking Ned’s ticket as soon as I get it switched. Would you be so kind as to load her luggage?

Happy to.

Jefferson, what are you and the others doing for dinner tonight?

Jefferson shrugged. They closed down the kitchen, but we still have our rooms for sleeping.

No money, huh?

Jefferson shrugged. We don’t get paid until the end of the line.

Let’s see, there are five of you. I guess you’d need at least four dollars each. Well, that is a problem. Dutch paused for a moment as he stuck his hands in his pant pockets, then pulled his hands out and pointed at Jefferson’s top vest pocket. Wait, what’s that? he asked as he touched Jefferson’s vest.

Jefferson frowned at Dutch and felt inside his vest pocket. He pulled out a twenty-dollar gold piece. Where’d that come from? he asked with a shocked look on his face.

It’s from your vest, so it must be yours.

Dutch … sorry, Mr. Steckman, how’d you do that?

Well, I certainly don’t know what you’re suggesting. Have a good dinner.

Jefferson turned with a large smile on his face and held up the coin for all of them to see.

As they hurried out, the white conductor, Randy, shook his head with a smile. Once again, you’ve come to our porter’s rescue, Dutch. Many thanks. I just heard the train’s leaving at 8am tomorrow, but the berths will be available after 9pm.

Thanks, Randy.

Kathy stared at him with a slight smile. I see stranded women aren’t the only ones you rescue.

I consider them all friends. Friends take care of friends.

One of the men used your first name, then used your surname.

"The porters aren’t comfortable using my first name. I told them that since I could call them by their first names, no reason they couldn’t call me by mine. Most white people just call them George, after George Pullman, the man who built these cars.

I don’t like that because it reminds them of their slave days. We compromised by having them call me Dutch when there aren’t any white folks about, and Mister when there are.

Interesting, she said, followed by a warm smile. You appear to be a most unusual man.

The man at the front of the line shouted, My name is Walter Shackford the Third, and I demand to know when this junk train will be leaving?

Dutch said in a loud voice, I just heard it will leave at 8am tomorrow. The kitchen is closed, but your sleeping berth is available after nine.

The man turned around and glared at Dutch.

And just where am I supposed to eat?

There are several fine restaurants available within easy walking distance, Sir. Dutch emphasized ‘sir,’ with a whit of a sneer.

And is the railroad going to pay for my meal?

Dutch’s face hardened as a tight smile formed, You will need to take that up with the railroad when you arrive at your destination.

Shackford growled at his two young assistants, Pick up my chest. I’m tired of this place.

After he left, Dutch went to the counter. The ticket agent said, Thanks, Dutch. That was one really rude man.

I agree. Dutch explained what he needed, and a few moments later, he handed a new ticket to Kathy.

She smiled at the ticket.

I also have some other good news for you, Dutch said. Since you were so nice, the railroad would be honored to buy you dinner tonight.

I see, she said, as her eyes followed the rude man with his two assistants dragging his chest down the street.

And I promise you, it won’t be where he’s going.

In that case, I’m delighted to accept your kind offer. Is everyone in Chesterville going to be as polite as you?

They’d better be, or I’ll pound them into the ground.

Kathy laughed as she took Dutch’s outstretched arm.

•••

The train slowly chugged across the prairie. It was the middle of the morning. Kathy and Dutch sat in the lounge car as the train bounced back and forth. These first-class chairs are so much more comfortable than the hard benches in the emigrant train, Kathy said. People kept sliding back and forth across the seats.

When we were building the transcontinental railroad, I rode in a few of those. Not fun.

Dutch’s eyes flicked over to where Walter Shackford sat. Dutch gasped as Shackford stuck out his foot and intentionally tripped Jefferson as he walked by carrying a tray of glasses filled with water. Jefferson crashed to the floor.

Hey, you clumsy oaf, you splashed water on me, Shackford said in a loud and indignant voice. Clean up your mess immediately, George.

Dutch bounded out of his chair as Jefferson slowly pulled himself up to his hands and knees. Dutch bent down and asked, You all right?

I think so. That knocked the wind out of me.

Dutch helped Jefferson stand.

Tell George to clean up this mess now, Shackford said in a demanding voice.

No! Dutch said. My friend Jefferson is not going to be cleaning your mess.

It’s all right, Dutch, Jefferson said. I’ll get right on it.

No, what I want you to do is bring me some rags so Mr. Shackfart the Turd can clean it up.

Shackford straightened in his chair and said, That’s Shackford the Third, boy.

Kathy quickly placed her hand over her mouth so no one could see her grinning at Dutch’s new name for Shackford.

I’m afraid not, Fat Boy, Dutch said. You made three mistakes. First, you intentionally tripped my friend, second, you called him George, and third, you called me boy.

Shackford pointed to one of the two older boys traveling with him, Becker, get this clay-back hog out of here.

He started to get up as Dutch drew his gun and said, You and your buddy find another car to go sit in. Dutch’s stern face made it clear there would be no arguments.

The two boys glanced at each other, then at Dutch’s gun, and quickly backed away before turning and hurrying to the next car.

Jefferson returned with six towels and handed them to Dutch.

Now then, Fat Boy, get down on your knees and clean up your mess.

They can clean up their own mess, Shackford said defiantly.

Is that your final word on the subject?

It is. Shackford scowled at Dutch.

Jefferson, find the conductor.

Jefferson’s eyes widened as he waved at Randy in the next car to come to them.

Randy, Mr. Shackfart the Turd is leaving the train.

Sir?

Yup, he’s getting off, either on his two legs or with two slugs in him. He turned to Jefferson. Get some help and move Shackfart’s chest up to the road. You know which one it is?

Oh, yes, sir.

Randy, tell the engineer we’re making a short stop. Dutch looked out the windows and said to Shackford. There’s a small settlement a few miles down the road. Pulling that chest might help you lose some of that blubber.

Randy hurried to the front of the train. A few moments later, the train came to a halt.

All right, Fat Boy. Let’s get moving. Dutch pulled his gun and poked Shackford in the belly.

You can’t throw me off this train.

Dutch waved his pistol. This says I can.

Once he’d escorted Shackford off the train, Dutch pointed down the road. Maybe as you’re walking down that road, you’ll think of that water you made Jefferson spill.

Randy had returned from the engineer. Okay, Randy, wave the engineer to get going. Dutch tipped his Colt’s barrel from his forehead down as a salute and watched as the figure of Shackford got smaller and smaller.

Shackford stood where the train had been with a bewildered look on his face as it slowly chugged on down the line. They weren’t going to just leave him, he thought, as he watched it move farther and farther away. He waited, expecting the train to stop and come back, but it didn’t.

Jefferson had just cleaned up the mess when Dutch returned to his chair.

I was going to clean that up for you, Jefferson, Dutch said.

Not likely, Dutch. I never had someone stand up for me like that before. Thanks.

Dutch sat down in his chair across from Kathy. I’m so sorry. He just lit my fuse. I don’t think I’ve ever met a more disagreeable person.

Kathy shook her head. I believe that little episode is going to come back to haunt you.

You’re probably right, but when that man intentionally tripped Jefferson, I just lost it. I’m sorry.

Randy came to his chair. You do realize that the settlement you’re sending him to is six black families?

Oh, dear, Kathy said.

Dutch shook his head and grinned. That should be interesting.

Not only that, Kathy said